Come Boldly Unto The Throne of Grace

Digory learns that mercy is enthroned in the hearts of kings.

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings,
But mercy is above this sceptered sway.
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings.
It is an attribute to God himself.
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.

W. Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, IV, I.

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Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.

Hebrews 4:16

ooOOoo

The beginning excerpt is the Great Lay of Narnia which may be familiar to some readers.

"So, Friends, will it be a song or a story?" Edmund asked.

There was the sound a tail thumping on the ground. "My mother tells the best stories," Rafiqa said.

"Oh hush," Jina replied.

"Jina, you do tell wonderful stories," Morgan said. "And there is one that you have mentioned a dozen times, but I've never heard it told in full."

"And which is that?" Jina asked. She rose and stretched and walked over to Morgan.

"About the day that Aslan sang Narnia into being. You begin almost every story by referring to it, but I've never heard it."

"That one!" Harah and Kangee demanded. "Tell the Great Lay!"

There was also a murmur of approval from the listening Trees. Of all Narnian tales, this one was a special favourite.

"I have not heard it myself in years," Edmund said. "Maybe not even since it was told when Peter and Susan performed the ceremonies bonding the human monarch to Narnia."

"I do like that story, too," Trice said. "Especially the High King in the egg and the Queen Susan's riddling."

"The Bonding of our Kings and Queens is a fine story," Roblang said. "But even it begins with Aslan and his Song."

"Lady Hound, would you tell the tale?" Edmund asked.

"I will, my King," Jina said.

Crows and Eagle settled in their perch in the overhead tree. Jalur's tail slowly moved, back and forth, gently thumping the ground. Roblang knocked his pipe against a tree stump and lit it again. The Centauress rested, shifting her weight to one side and lifting a hind leg.

The Hound sat again, with her back to the fire, surveyed her audience, and began.

"Come now Gentle Beasts and Birds, Good Centauress and Dwarf, come now Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve, that might you hear The Great Lay of Narnia. To my pups I told this tale, as I learned it from my Dam, as she from hers, back generation upon generation. The Great Lay of Narnia has been told since the day Aslan sang Narnia into being. The Gentle Beasts tell the tale in cave, nest, and den, in wood, mountain, meadow, and pond, so that we might remember it. For though Dwarfs build, and Birds fly, and Fauns dance, Naiads flow, and Dryads green, the Good Beasts of Narnia remember. So, Friends, heed my words. Stop and listen with your sensitive hearts so that all may know The Great Lay of Narnia. Harken to me now."

"It begins thus.

"At first, there was the Great Nothing, a black emptiness. And then into the Great Nothing, Aslan began to sing. Cold, tingling, silvery voices joined Aslan's Song and then at once a thousand points of light leaped out. And so there were single Stars, the Moon, constellations, and planets, bigger and brighter than any seen before."

Morgan leaned her head against his shoulder and they looked up at the Stars overhead, the clever Leopard, the Hammer of the Thunder Giant, the Ship that carries the Sun and Moon across the skies, and the other constellations of Narnia.

"And then Aslan changed his tune, louder and more triumphant. And so, the Sun rose for the first time on an earth of many colours and hues. Again, the Song changed. It became gentle, rippling music and where Aslan walked, grass grew and spread like a pool. The Lion sang light and bright and flowers grew."

Jina's voice slowed to give the next part the reverence that was due.

"The Lion sang deep and strong and the trees grew."

The Dryads around them rustled and moved closer to listen. The words "deep and strong" and "we grew" wafted through the grove as wind through leaves as the Trees repeated the refrain that told of their birth.

Beyond the circle of firelight, other Narnians had come to hear the Hound tell their story. There were dark shapes and green and yellow glowing eyes all around them. Morgan leaned forward, chin resting on her hands, as avid to hear the story as the Narnians themselves.

Jina continued.

"The Lion sang and green grass began to bubble, like water in a pot."

Just as the Trees had done, the Beasts and Birds in their camp and all around them repeated the words in a soft chorus, "Like water in a pot."

"The land swelled into humps and then from each hump there came out a beast of Narnia."

"We came from each hump," the Beasts and Birds repeated.

"For the first time, Aslan was silent. He went to and fro among the beasts, choosing some, but not others. And those he chose, he changed."

Tree, Beast, Bird, and Being all chorused "We changed."

"There was a flash of fire and Aslan spoke."

The listening Narnians all joined Jina to say the words.

"Narnia, Narnia, Narnia, awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking Trees. Be Talking Beasts. Be divine Waters. Out of dumb beasts we were taken and into them we can return."

There was a great, profound silence.

Jina looked to him, her expressive face asking permission. She knew this next part was darker and told of the Human role in bringing evil to Narnia. Edmund nodded. "You have enchanted us, Lady Hound. Please finish the tale."

She shifted on her haunches and continued, telling the story of the Jackdaw's first joke. The Crows cawed their approval of this contribution by one of their kind and everyone around the fire laughed.

The mood turned somber when Jina told of the evil that entered Narnia. Aslan instructed Lord Digory and Lady Polly that as the Humans had brought Jadis into Narnia, now they would labour to repair that wrong. Jina told how the children embarked upon a great journey on the Winged Horse, Fledge, met Jadis in the Garden, and finally returned to Aslan to plant the Tree of Protection.

Last, Jina told how Aslan called Helen from beyond the limits of the world to join her husband, Frank, and how they were crowned first Queen and King of Narnia. It was Edmund's turn to sit and listen, attentively and solemnly, to Aslan's charge to Narnia's first King and Queen. He felt his subjects' eyes upon him as Jina spoke the Lion's instructions to Helen and Frank.

"'Can you raise food from the earth?' Aslan asked. 'Can you rule these creatures kindly and fairly, remembering that they are not slaves but Talking Beasts and free subjects?'" As he had at Peter and Susan's Bonding, some ten years ago, Edmund found himself nodding and making this renewal of the Monarch's sacred vow to Narnia.

"'And would you raise your children and grandchildren to do the same? And if enemies came against the land and there was war, would you be the first in the charge and the last in the retreat?'"

Again, Edmund found himself nodding. Her Monarchs would keep Narnia secure, now and in the future.

"And so it was that from Aslan's Song, Narnia was made, her Beings born, her rulers crowned, and evil foiled."

Jina gathered them all together again with her voice to conclude for all Narnian stories had a moral.

"Friends, here is where the Great Lay of Narnia ends and our duties begin. Aslan created us to love, think, and speak. But out of dumb things we were taken, and to them we can return if we do not heed his word."

"Out of dumb things we were taken and to them we can return," the Narnians all repeated.

The Hound turned her great brown eyes on him. "And to you Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve, be ever mindful that you did not come from Aslan's Song. Narnia is not your country, but it is a country over which a man or woman may rule, if they pledge themselves to Narnia as Frank and Helen did and sit the throne by Aslan's will."

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When the Pevensies tumbled out of the wardrobe, stunned, confused and stammering apologies about fur coats gone missing for minutes and years, the first thing Digory had done, after tea and strong spirits, was wire Polly. He needed her. The … children? Not-children? Goodness, what were they now? – needed them both.

It was a muddle.

Digory decided to wait on telling the young Monarchs the details of his own time in Narnia until Polly joined them. Partly it was, he told himself, an adult's mature forbearance. The Pevensies were his priority and Digory did not need to regale them with the, relatively speaking, very short story of his and Polly's adventure. There was nothing so irritating as a person who tries to upstage a splendid tale by inserting personal digressions. Digory reasoned that his and Polly's own small part in the history of Narnia could wait.

But every time he looked at the grave, compassionate man staring out from Edmund's ten-year old face, Digory knew that part of his reluctance was deep shame. He wondered if Edmund noticed his flinch the first time the not-boy spoke the word, Jadis.

Edmund probably had. Nothing escaped the notice of the not-children.

The matter came to the fore with Polly's arrival. By Jove, it was odd introducing her to High King Peter of Narnia. Polly dropped an actual curtsey, which he would have to tease her over when she was not armed with an umbrella and carpet bag weighted with bricks. As the Pevensies graciously greeted Polly as a welcome friend, Digory realised that the Pevensies automatically slotted him into a new role. Professor Digory Kirke was no longer surrogate parent to four London evacuees. He was the valued advisor to Their Majesties of Cair Paravel.

Polly's arrival meant another pot of tea - they had gone through nearly a month's ration in the last week. Susan did the honours and poured. Peter took what had become his customary seat, which was the largest wing chair in the drawing room. Edmund and Lucy passed the cups around and launched into easy, poised conversation with Polly.

Queen Susan pursed her lips into a slight O, leaned over, and whispered something to the High King whose young face sharpened with lively interest.

And without anything discernible occurring that Digory could see, both Edmund and Lucy ceased talking and turned to their elder brother and sister.

Susan delicately set her cup in the saucer with barely a clink. "Professor, you have been the soul of kindness to us these past days and Miss Plummer we are delighted to meet another to whom we may confide. Our placement in this home was not mere happy chance but certainly the work of the Lion."

Into her pause, Peter smoothly continued. "Professor, you told us earlier that your own tale of Narnia should wait until Miss Plummer is here. My sister has just noted that surely we know of your story already though we did not realise so until now."

"What's that then?" Edmund asked.

"Their names," Susan said. "Professor and Miss Plummer, are we not in the honoured presence of two who witnessed Narnia's birth?"

Lucy gasped. "Lord Digory and Lady Polly!" She clapped her hands. "That is you, is it not?"

"It is," Digory confirmed. He reached across the chair and took Polly's hand.

"We are truly blessed," the High King said.

"We have heard the Great Lay of Narnia's birth countless times!" Lucy said. "This is just splendid!"

"They made a song of it?" Polly asked with wonder.

"The Great Lay of Narnia has been told since the day Aslan sang Narnia into being," the High King said, smiling.

"At first, there was the Great Nothing, a black emptiness. And then into the Great Nothing, Aslan began to sing," Lucy began. "Cold, tingling, silvery voices joined Aslan's Song and then at once a thousand points of light leaped out. And so there were single Stars, the Moon, constellations, and planets, bigger and brighter than any seen before."

They had all fallen quiet to listen to Lucy chant the tale, her solemnity at odds with the child's voice. Digory shivered and Polly squeezed his hands. The others were all mouthing the words.

"It was just as you say," Digory said when Lucy stopped. "We stood in the black void of nothing and heard Aslan's song. We watched Narnia come into being, met Aslan, heard the first Joke, and witnessed the crowning of King Frank and Queen Helen."

"King Frank was a London cabbie. Strawberry, who became the Winged Horse, Fledge, pulled the hansom cab," Polly said. "Aslan sent us on Fledge to the Garden, Digory took the apple, and planted the Tree of Protection."

"And so by your actions, Narnia was protected from Jadis for nearly a thousand years," Edmund said. He slowly bowed his head. "On behalf of our subjects, we thank you for your service."

Digory felt a flush of deep shame and Polly squeezed his hand again.

A fly buzzed in the window. The clock ticked in the hall.

"You may be interested to know that though Frank and Helen's line died in Narnia when Jadis invaded, their descendants continue unbroken in Archenland, Narnia's closest ally to the South," Susan said.

The Gentle Queen not-child adroitly filled what might have been an awkward moment and the conversation moved to other matters.

When Digory raised his eyes from a study of the fine carpet his father had brought back from India so many years ago, Edmund was looking at him, steadily and with a curious expression.

Thoroughly ashamed, Digory looked away.

ooOOoo

Polly was a crack shot and when she had you in her sights, it was very uncomfortable. She badgered him mercilessly. On the third, very wet, morning after her arrival, she ambushed him in the hall as she was coming in from walking her spaniel puppy. "You are moping, Digory!"

"I am not," he retorted with as much stuffy dignity as he could manage whilst dodging her umbrella and spray from the shaking spaniel.

"If you do not speak to Edmund, I shall be forced to do something drastic!"

"You shall bludgeon me with your carpet bag?" Digory had felt the wrath of Polly's carpet bag before and limped for a week thereafter.

With the umbrella safely in the stand, he dared approach to help her shrug out of her Mac.

"I should very much like to see you try to avoid your King when I inform Edmund that you need to speak with him."

"Speak to me about what?"

They both whirled about as Edmund emerged from the kitchen corridor, finishing a piece of toast.

Digory felt water dripping from Polly's Mac, umbrella, and dog on to, and into, his shoes. He glared at Polly, who looked unconscionably smug. You did this on purpose.

"Digory has something about Narnia he wishes to discuss with you," Polly said breezily. She hung up her dripping Mac and fluffed her damp hair. She and her dog trotted away, following the scent of breakfast tomatoes and toast.

"Is that so?" Edmund said. "Is now convenient, Professor?"

No! It would never be convenient. It was, however, now unavoidable.

"Certainly, thank you, Edmund. You do not mind giving me a few minutes of your time?"

"Not at all."

Digory held open the door of his study and followed Edmund in, closing the door behind him.

Edmund stood politely in the middle of the rug. The only piece of furniture in the room not covered in papers and books was Digory's own desk chair. He certainly wasn't going to sit in that whilst Edmund stood. He was equally certain that offering it to Edmund would result in some complex, adroit manipulation in which the young King managed to remain standing whilst, in deference to age and joints, his old advisor sat.

Better to stand. Blast, they all stood like King George and Queen Elizabeth, completely at ease and utterly composed with others looking at them. No shifting, no dilly-dallying. Did they wave the same, stiff and regal way, palm inward?

Needlessly and nervously, Digory cleared his throat.

"How might I be of service, Professor?"

Right then.

"Edmund, I owe you my deepest, most sincere apology," Digory blurted out.

Edmund arched an eyebrow. It was effectively ironic, though Susan was really the master of that particularly subtle gesture. He held out his hands, palms up. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I do not see how, Professor, as I was the nasty belligerent but a week ago and was party to the conspiracy to remove four fur coats from your wardrobe."

Digory waved away the concern. "No, that is nothing." He spoke the name, "Jadis."

Edmund frowned and regrettably Digory now had the King's full and most serious attention. His voice, though young, was keen. "Yes? What of her?"

"Does the Great Lay say how she came to Narnia?"

The furrow between his brows deepened. "The Lay instructs that Humans brought the evil into Narnia and so were tasked with righting the wrong." Digory tried to inject his own clarification but Edmund continued, very firmly, "This atonement for complicity in bringing Jadis to Narnia was, as Aslan commanded, accomplished with your and Miss Plummer's journey on Fledge to the Garden and the planting of the Tree of Protection."

So although the role of Humans in the debacle had been preserved, the specifics of culpability had not.

"I was responsible for bringing Jadis," Digory admitted miserably. The self-disgust was still painfully fresh even after 50 years. "Polly and I went to Jadis' world, a terrible, dying world called Charn. Polly warned me not to do so but I, deliberately and to show-off, awakened Jadis from the spell that had bound her. She followed us to London. Polly and I were able to take her away. We all appeared in the void just as Aslan began singing."

"Jadis in London?!" Edmund commented, sounding very dry. "That must have been remarkable. We should very much like to hear that tale in full!"

"She careened about in King Frank's hansom cab and smashed it to bits. When a Bobby tried to arrest her, she snapped the arm off an iron lamppost as if it were a twig. She carried it with her and when Aslan appeared, she threw it at him." Despite the gravity, Digory smiled for the memory. "The bar bounced right off the Lion and grew into a new lamppost."

"The lamppost still burns in Narnia to this day." A shadow fell across Edmund's face. "It was in the Lantern Waste that we chased the White Stag back here."

"Edmund, it was through my error, my fault, that Jadis was released. And when I think that she captured you, when I could have warned you, when I hear of all the harm she did, to you and to Narnia…" Inwardly he quailed but still had to press on. "When I now learn what Aslan had to do to repair the damage, I am thoroughly, heartily ashamed."

The King made no outburst or even a harsh expression or exclamation. Edmund listened to the whole of his blurted confession with an air of polite encouragement.

"I am so very sorry for my terrible part in these ghastly events. I felt you should hear that from me." Digory was shaking so he could barely get the final apology out.

Surely Edmund is shocked? How can he stand there some calmly when I did such an utterly wretched thing?

Edmund finally let out a breath; Digory found he mimicked the relieved exhalation and felt some of his tension dissipate.

"Is that what you wished to tell me?"

Digory nodded.

"Very well," Edmund said. "So, to be clear, you revealed the whole of your role in this to Aslan? True, he would have known but, regardless, he would wish to hear your admission."

Digory nodded again, comprehending anew the remarkable bond between these not-children and Aslan.

"And then Aslan forgave you and sent you and Miss Plummer to the Garden," Edmund finished.

He could see where Edmund was leading and balked. "That you would have suffered so due to my own foolishness is horrible. That Narnia suffered so is unconscionable. And Aslan..." Digory choked on his self-disgust and could not finish. What Aslan had done, had had to do, led back straight and inexorably to his own wretched, arrogant foolishness.

Edmund stepped forward and grasped Digory by the arms. Looking abashed at the seeming familiarity, he stepped back again. "Excuse me, Professor, but that gesture of comfort is far more effective when I'm 15 years older and over a foot taller."

They both laughed, more ironic chuff than hearty guffaw.

"I will not say such trite things as all's well, that end's well, or how the great good that results makes the great evil worth its cost. I know such adages provide scant comfort to the stricken conscience."

"Pithy platitudes have not comforted me to be sure," Digory replied.

"Truly, Professor, I harbour no ill will at all. I am certain that my brother, the High King, and my royal sisters, would share this view. And while I will not speak for the Lion, I administered his justice for many years and am certain that you are much loved."

Digory shook his head. He just could not see it, as much as he hungered for it.

"Professor, I assure you that Narnians are a fractious lot and …" Digory saw a pained expression move across Edmund's countenance that was firmly and obviously pushed aside. "… and the Lion loves those of even the most demanding of dispositions. Such boundless love surely includes one who witnessed Narnia's birth."

Digory felt tears smart in his eyes. He roughly cleared his throat. "Thank you, Edmund, for your generosity, and compassion. None of you is the person that you were the morning you went through the wardrobe. Your changes, however, are the most profound."

Edmund clasped his hands behind his back, a classic pose of a Monarch. All he needed was the royal naval uniform and service officer's hat.

"For you, it is but a week and what a tick I was." Edmund frowned, showing some small exasperation. "For me, for us, it has been years. I left that angry child behind a long, long time ago. I remember that person only so that I might never be that way again."

Blast. Had he made it worse? "I must apologize again, Edmund, I did not mean to reopen old wounds."

Edmund shook his head. "You misunderstand, Professor. I betrayed Narnia and my family to the Witch Jadis. I repented of that act, and was forgiven."

Digory was appallingly envious of this peace Edmund had found. "Even after 50 years, such healing has eluded me," he admitted. "With the news you brought, of how my foolish act reverberated for over a millennium and with such terrible effect upon you, I am less worthy of it than ever."

He looked down again, studying the threadbare rug and their patched, cobbled shoes. Rain beat harder on the window panes and, outside, there was a thump on the stairs and the sounds of a spaniel's claws scrabbling on hard wood. He heard Lucy's joyous laugh.

"In administering justice for so many years and adjudging the hard cases, I may confidently say that for you and me, and for others who have received Aslan's grace, asserting I do not deserve such mercy is foolish, even churlish and presumptive. None of us deserves this mighty gift of grace, yet we have it all the same." Edmund was speaking so gravely, Digory felt he'd been called to account before a learned Judge. "We squander that gift by wallowing in guilt. Our charge is to act upon this mercy going forward."

"Aslan's mercy is a call to do his work," Digory replied and pulled his eyes up to Edmund's steady, understanding gaze. Feeling small and humbled, he whispered, "I have tried to do so."

"And surely the Lion is well-pleased with your effort for he would not have opened the door for us to Narnia from your home were it otherwise."

Digory could not escape the logic of that reasoning. Perhaps logic was not taught in English schools but it was taught in Narnian ones. Could the Lion's grace be so freely given? Digory thought the only logical answer was, yes. He was not worth such mercy, but how did that matter? No one was, yet he had it all the same.

"Professor, I do not know the man I would have become had I never fallen to Jadis' ensorcellment. I know the man I became and am wholly content with who he is and what he has done. I would bid you the same."

Edmund stood on his toes and solemnly kissed him on each cheek. Digory bent his head and accepted the blessing of his King.

As I was working on my NFE, this popped out. OldfashionedGirl 95 reminded me of her own fine work, Well Done, playing with the similar theme of Digory angst. My thanks to her and to Starbrow.

If the Pevensies seem very sanguine about their sudden return, my head canon explanation is set out in Miniver's fabulous This Other Eden. The excerpt with the Great Lay is from Chapter 15 of Harold and Morgan: Not a Romance.